Trout Whisperer posted on September 06, 2007 22:51 :: 4322 Views
For a mid December Saturday the county roads will be not be plowed until way past noon. We're going to have a white Christmas. I call my neighbor Bill and see if he wants to do some snowshoeing back to my shack and see if we can shoot some rabbits.
He four wheels into my driveway and we put our shoes on and snowshoe right off the deck, yard level with all the new snow. I break trail and get the first hutch. When the rabbit explodes he leaps and disappears in the fluff. When he comes up I let go and connect. Bill tells me that was a great shot.
The next hutch is empty. Now my turn again to break trail and shoot.
When the snow duffs show my shotgun shell pattern this clearly I know for sure I never touched a hair on the snowshoe hares torso. No red spots clinch the miss. Four rabbits feet of speed out did my Irish luck.
The next hutch we come up to is surrounded by runs. Bill is on point and I will do the flushing. My snowshoes never hit the snow capped brush so the sound of my approach sent the fur flying and we have a double flush. Bill connects on the rooster tail of snow and snowshoe hare. I never popped a cap, two darts and it was gone. Were up to one rabbit a piece.
Walking on my snow covered logging trails is easy. Trying to brush whack after the rabbits we would be soaked in sweat in minutes. The pine bows are so snow covered they drape into the fallen snow so walking through them just fills the open spots in my neck. Even with two hundred twenty pound rated long tails were sinking over a foot into fresh fluffy snow. I own bear paws but with my above average mid section I like the longer shoes especially on my trails.
Bill is eight years younger and about the same weight as me. His twelve is no more accurate than my pump twenty and I have got him stride for stride. Being tied at one bunny a piece we know what the deciding factor for today is coming down to. We have maybe eight hutches left with no guarantee of dark eyed occupants but I want one more shot and he does too. Were rotating on who’s shooting and whose flushing. I'm shootin' next.
He kicks the next hutch and it’s a bust. We hit the ridge and rest by my deer shack. Pulling off the snowshoes makes my legs feel so much lighter. Stepping off the shoes I sink to my thighs. We both dig open the door. Walking on carpet is to be forgiven minus the snowshoes. I start the stove, he unpacks lunch. I clear and scrape a month’s frost off the north window with my choppered hand. Sitting in a deer shooting lane is a snowshoe hare on its haunches. I tell Bill I have to water the lilies.
When I quietly close the cabin door I reach for my shotgun and slip one shell in my twenty and close the action. I trudge, plowing calf deep snow over to the corner of the cabin so I can shoot down the lane. My snowshoe hare is visible to the extent I can see parts of his ears and the hump in his butt since its no longer standing. Trying to rise on my tip toes I sink a bit further in the snow.
I step forward with the muzzle pointed exactly where the rabbit was noshing on something and hopefully still is. In my second step, before it can burst away I put the bead on it center of mass and fire. Now I don’t care if I got lucky. I may have pot shot this hare. Bill is going to give me both barrels verbally when I get inside, but meat is meat. So instead of hurrying inside the cabin, I’m going to put my snowshoes on and go retrieve my prize.
We finish a sinner’s lunch. After one game of cribbage and more complaining about cheating his hunting partner out of what should have been his next shot we close up the damper on the stove and exit the cabin. Beating him in cribbage just makes me think it’s my day.
Im feeling slightly guilty about snookering him so I tell him to lead us back. Maybe four hundred feet from the cabin he flushes two ruffed grouse. The birds flew from the snow and with Bill in front I have no shot. He did, and dumped the bird on the left. We both check the little feathery feet and now he’s crowing about me ground swatting a sitting rabbit. He tells me I have two rabbits. He has two also, just one of his, has wings.
The trout whisperer
Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger is a respected JustNorth author and outdoor adventurer. His guide service, DuNord Guide Service, and the trout waters that he fishes in the Superior National Forest, are some of the most tightly guarded secrets among Trout enthusiasts in Minnesota and Wisconsin.
Contact Karl at 218 - 525 - 0442 or write to him at:
DuNord Guide Service - 6999 Culbertson Road, Two Harbors, Minnesota 55616
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